


It’s All In The Past (and I promise it'll be okay)

by Wealthywetsunny



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Kidnapping, Mentions of Rape, care taking, mental trauma, mentions of sexual abuse, seeds being nice for once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:46:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26858434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wealthywetsunny/pseuds/Wealthywetsunny
Summary: Rook knew she hated Joseph’s twisted family from the moment she laid her eyes on them. She just didn’t think, not even for a moment, that they would dredge up old feelings she thought long since buried. And all because they can’t seem to keep their hands to themselves.tl;dr How the Seed boys react when they find out Rook was sexually abused in the past.
Relationships: Female Deputy | Judge/Jacob Seed, Female Deputy | Judge/John Seed, Female Deputy | Judge/Joseph Seed
Comments: 27
Kudos: 97





	1. John

The hands on her arms burn like fire. She struggles in vain, trying to dance away from their touch, but the bliss makes her slow. It also makes hearing John that much harder, but she knows he’s near, as she blinks away water that clings stubbornly to her lashes. 

She doesn’t think she’d ever be able to forget his voice.So sharp and tasteful, the ever present way he pushes his southern drawl down until you can hardly register that it’s there at all. 

It makes her skin crawl. 

She digs her feet into the mud that coats the bottom of the lake, putting up a fight as the men on either side of her drag her closer towards John. 

Rook bares her teeth when she finally gets placed in front of him, as if that alone will be enough to scare him off. He just smiles at her, serene and deceptively kind. 

He nods to his men, and the hands on her biceps disappear—she breathes a sigh of relief that he doesn’t miss—her shoulders roll back and she has the overwhelming urge to run her fingertips over where they had touched her. Her bound wrists make that impossible so instead she squirms helplessly, feeling like bugs are crawling along her body. 

A flash of irritation passes over his face. “Stop that,” he snaps, reaching out to grab onto her shoulders. His nails dig in, and it’s only by a small blessing that he hadn’t decided to touch her bare skin. “What’s wrong with you?” It sounds like such a terrible accusation, as if she’s crazy. She  _ hates  _ that. 

Rook just shakes her head slowly, pretends that the drugs in the water are making her voice dry up. 

He huffs, stepping in closer, leaving only a couple inches between them. Rook tips her head away, she sucks in a breath and holds it, lets her chest pull inward as much as she can lest they brush together. 

Rook has half a mind to tell him to go fuck himself, that she’s starting to get sick of him being so close all the time, but that’d give him too much ammunition. 

“You’re hiding something.” He whispers, crowding her vision. Her lungs are starting to burn. “I’ll find it, deputy. You’ll reveal  _ everything _ to me. Every slight. Every injustice. No matter how small. No matter how petty. I’ll tear it out of you, don’t you worry.” It’s a promise and a threat. One she believes he’ll carry out fully. 

The truck ride to John’s bunker is spent in an awfully confined space where she keeps bumping against the man beside her. Their knees touch repeatedly. She wants to scream. She knows she’s just keyed up after her encounter with John, but she can’t help it. 

So really John only has himself to blame when not even an hour later she breaks. The combination of the baptism and the drive over, even getting her into a cell where his men held onto her arms tight— it was a recipe for a damn catastrophe. 

She’s sitting on the cold floor, her back pressed into a corner to keep her eyes on what’s going on outside her cell. Watching the guards rotate. It’s hard to keep track of time underground, so she can’t be sure how long it takes before John comes walking in. 

His long coat is pushed back slightly. Purposely. So her eyes are drawn to the gun tucked away into his jeans. It’s probably the only reason why they’re alone together right now. She’s given him plenty of reasons not to trust her. 

He gets too close again, crouches in front of her too with a hand curling over her knee. She wants to get angry, she tries to will wrath into her heart, but instead she feels like she wants to crawl into a hole and die. She can’t stop the pressure behind her eyes as tears build up. 

“S-stop. Please.” Her voice cracks as she gazes up at him through her lashes. “Don’t touch me.”

John cocks his head to the side. Peering curiously at her as tears run down her cheeks. He brushes his thumb across her face, catching wetness. She flinches back, banging her head. 

He mumbles a soft “careful,” but she can tell that he’s distracted, that he doesn’t really mind if she gets hurt. His mind is working overdrive. Making assumptions and filling in blanks. 

“Tell me what happened.”

She shakes her head rapidly. 

“Rook. Tell me. There’s no time like the present, this is where we’ll start your confession.” 

A sob catches in her throat. “D-dont make me say. I’ve never told—please, John. I can’t. I can’t do it.”

“You can. I’ve heard anything you can ever imagine. Nothing surprises me anymore, I won’t judge you, that’s not my job.” 

He’s a liar. Rook knows this. That’s why he has the reputation he does, he’s a smooth talker. His cadence, if she removes it from the horrible man he is, calms her somewhat. 

“Go ahead,” he prompts, pulling his hand off her knee to dangle between his legs. 

“No.”

“Deputy—“

“I can’t!” She yells, face flushing with anger and embarrassment. She recoils immediately though, tries to reign in her feelings. This is getting to be all too much, having his eyes on her as he picks apart her brain. “I’ve never told anyone before.” 

“Then what are you so afraid of?”

Rook shrugs. She’s not sure actually, she’s never given it much thought. 

He frowns, moving to stand up and hover above her. Hands resting on his waist. “You’re lying, aren’t you?” He laughs, speaking over her when she tries to defend herself. “And I almost fell for it.” He wags a finger at her, lips curling into a cruel smile. “Nice one, deputy.” 

“John…”

He opens the cell door, directing his next sentence to the men lingering outside. “Take her to the confession room. Tie her down.” He pauses, glancing at her, “tie her to the table.” 

“Yes, John.” 

Rook fights them as best as she can, even when the butt of a gun hits her across the face and she sees stars. They drag her half limp and whining into a large, empty room. His confession room. There’s a chair and a dusty, wooden workbench. She ignores the bodies wrapped up in latex hanging from the ceiling. 

The men holding her are  _ strong.  _ They lift her up off the ground, tossing her back onto the workbench. It takes a bit of maneuvering for them to tie her down and secure her limbs to the legs of the table, but they manage. 

John comes in shortly after. Smiling like the goddamn Cheshire Cat when he sees her. 

She shakes when he gets closer, gritting her teeth when he trails his fingers over her ankles. 

“Nervous, deputy?” 

“A-according to you, I shouldn’t be.”

He hums, taking a few more steps until he’s up by her head. “That’s if you’re lying to me. Prove me wrong, confess.”

Rook closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Her chest rattling with her inhale. She has a headache slamming behind her eyes, making her wince every now and then. 

And John just watches her, hands laced together behind his back as he rocks on his heels. 

“Someone hurt you. You’re certainly not making that up. No ones that good an actor.” 

“Yeah? If you’re so sure then how about you take a guess.” It’s easier like this, when she deflects her pain and makes  _ him  _ talk. She can’t speak right now, after all the soft touches and personal talk. 

She’d rather hear his voice for a little bit, better than having to reveal to him what happened to her. 

“Guess?” He barks a laugh, shaking his head. “That’s not usually how this works, but I’ll bite.” He spins on his heel and grabs a chair, yanking it over to sit down. She has to crane her head awkwardly to see him, but she manages. 

“The first time someone touched me, I think I was…” John clicks his tongue in thought “5? Maybe 6? Only a few months before the Duncans adopted me. One of the kids at the foster care system took a liking to me. Said I was real sweet.” He pauses, licking his lips as he leans back. 

“He led me away from Joseph...made me do all sorts of things. It was hard, getting back into sex when I was older, but once I started I couldn’t stop. I had _ power,  _ I was bigger and stronger and I got drunk off that. Joseph saved me, took me away from the sex that I was using to destroy myself.”

When John refocuses on her, he hesitates, seeing her eyes filled with tears ready to spill down her cheeks. 

“I suppose my guess isn’t too far off,” he murmurs, leaning in close with his elbows on his thighs. “Nothing to be ashamed of, deputy, I understand your pain.” He brushes his knuckles across her cheek, “close your eyes if you must, pretend I’m not even here and start talking.” 

The sheer knowledge that John went through what she did—if he’s not pulling her leg to get her to talk—it makes her tremble with anxiety. 

Her lips open and close a few times, unsure where to start, but she knows she’ll have to talk eventually. John’s good at drawing confessions, no one leaves without jumping through his hoops, and right now she’s too tired to delay the inevitable. She’ll apologize to the resistance later but she’s exhausted and starting to feel a little hopeless to be honest. 

He’s patient at least, she’ll give him that. He makes a good Baptist, sitting quietly and allowing her to sift through her thoughts. 

She tips her head back, focusing solely on the ceiling. “My story isn’t as sad as yours—“

“We’re not here to compare trauma, deputy, don’t do that.”

Rook bites her lip, tears leaking out. “I was 22, fresh into the academy, and I got it in my head that I was getting old. That I—I needed to start finding someone to settle down with.” She laughs, “stupid.”

He mumbles a soft “not at all,” but besides that he’s quiet. Letting her talk. 

“I did find someone, y’know. He, uh, he was good to me for a bit. The little time we knew each other that is.” She can’t help it, she glances at him. She immediately regrets it. His eyes are so soft, so kind and trusting and unlike John that it steals her breath away. 

“We met at a club, spoke for like twenty minutes. It was his idea to grab a booth back in the corner to get away from the noise, so we could talk. I thought I got lucky on the first try. That I’d be going home with his number, that in a few years I’d have a husband and a new house, maybe a puppy. Always wanted a puppy...I Guess I was sorta distracted, didn’t read the signs.”

John huffs, pulling back to stretch. “Stop blaming yourself. It’ll be easier to accept when you realize it’s not your fault...Joseph told me that. He’s usually right about those kinds of things.” 

Rook doesn’t respond to that. Her throat feels tight again. 

“He, um, he didn’t rape me,” she whispers. “Didn’t get the chance. But, he...h-he touched me.”

“How?” 

“Y’know…”

“I don’t. That’s what I’m asking.” 

She breathes heavily through her nose. Why is this so hard? 

“Would you like me to start guessing again, Rook? Or do you want to point at my body where he touched you?” 

She snarls at him, yanking at the ropes that tie her down. “Don’t mock me!” 

He raises an eyebrow, mutters something disdainful that sounds like “wrath,” before continuing on with a heavy sigh. “I’m not. I’m trying to make this easier for you. I don’t get many people talking about this sort of thing, okay? New territory for both of us.” He shifts, staring at her intently. “Besides. I had this idea in my mind about what your confession would entail. Some screaming and yelling, us fighting. You being your normal wrathful self. Not...this.” 

She’s quiet for a while. Seething for a bit before she realizes that John is waiting again. Patient. Always so patient. Different from the image of the baptist she formed in her head. Not as angry or quick to fly off the handle. She wonders what she did to him to produce this change. 

“He grabbed my...my chest, pushed his hand between my leg and...and he r-rubbed my…” she tapers off, mouth dry. “I tried to get up but he kept his arm around my shoulder so I was pressed into him.” She shook her head rapidly, keeping her eyes on him, “I didn’t want it. I swear, John! I didn’t, but he was so much stronger than me, I couldn’t get away.”

He shushes her, standing up with a light groan. “Very good, my dear.” 

“So...what’s my sin then?” 

He’s got his back to her, rooting around until he wanders back over with a dull blade. He frowns at her, brows knitting together. “Your sin? We didn’t even start talking about sins.”

“What?!” She struggles again, spurred on when he lays a hand on her ankle. 

He begins to saw away at the rope, staring at her as he does so. “What happened to you wasn’t your fault. It’s hardly a sin.”

“Lust…”

“It’s not your fault, Rook.” The rope snaps and he moves onto the next, freeing her feet. 

“Then why’d you make me tell?”

“First off, I didn’t make you do anything, confessions are nothing if not voluntary. That’s why I make people say yes.” He rounds on her to grab a hold of her wrist. Beginning to cut the ropes there. “Secondly, it’s important that I know everything about you. No matter what it is, I want to know it. We’re far from done, deputy, but since we got over that hump I think everything else should be a cake walk.” 

The ropes around her wrists come free and she drags them to cross over her chest, glaring up at him as he offers his hand. She shakes her head and he just chuckles, stepping back to let her get up on her own. 

“Take a seat, Rook, we still need to find your sin. But, for the record, I am sorry for what happened to you. We’ll go slow, if that’s what you need.”

“Oh, my savior,” she mutters hotly, hoisting herself up on shaking feet. 

He glares at her, fists curling at his sides. “You must be feeling very exposed right now, very emotional, so I’ll let that slide.” He gestures to the chair he was just sat in, “now sit. If you’re still as forthcoming as you were before then we’ll be done by the week’s end.” 

Rook falls down heavily in the chair, flinching when he crouches down to tie her back up. In the back of her head she asks herself why she isn’t fighting. It’d be laughably easy to knock him over the head, to tackle him to the ground and wrap her hands around his throat.

He’s made her docile by getting her to tell her horror story. 

He still stays seated on his haunches when he’s done. Laying the knife off to the side as he roves his eyes over her. He’s got his bottom lip clamped between his teeth as he stares and stares. 

“I know what you think of me, Rook. You believe I’m a heartless monster with no emotion. Like I live simply to cause pain.” He drags his fingers through his hair, frowning. “It’s not true,” he holds up his hand to his heart, “and I can say that over and over again but you won’t believe me until you see it, I get that, but I do care about people. Not just their souls.” 

He takes a deep breath, reaching out to tap the back of her knuckles. “I’m sorry for what happened to you, my dear, really. I’m not just saying that, but you don’t have to trust my words, I suppose.” He twists his fingers together, finally standing up. 

“I’m a good man.” He’s pacing, hands clenching and unclenching. “I'm not just using you but...I’d like you to think so.” He’s looking intently at her now, and it dawns on her that he’s probably waiting on her to say something. 

“Then prove it.”

“Haven’t I?”

“So far? Yeah. I wasn’t lying when I said I’ve never told anyone. I thought I’d go my whole life with that secret but you...I dunno...you drew it out of me without carving into my skin. That’s a start. You’re giving me a good story to tell people, but that could change.”

“I won’t let it.”

She tilts her head at him, “why? I mean, why would you change now, all of a sudden.”

“It may be sudden to you, but it’s not. Not really. Joseph and I spoke a few days ago. About my methods. Jacob can have his wolves and prisoners but me? I’m going too far, I need to be sweet again. But the last time I was sweet, well,” he gives her a bitter smile, “we both know how that went.” 

It hits her like a ton of bricks. 

“You’re scared.”

John’s lips quirk. “Yes. Like you were scared, so am I.” 

“Why are you telling me this?” She pushes, momentarily enjoying the reversal in power. 

“You understand me. You were assaulted, so was I.” He tapers off, breathing noisily. “You won’t judge. I hope.” He shoots her a lopsided grin. “Besides, I’ve got to start somewhere. I’ll be sweet again—with you, and you won’t hurt me because you’ve been hurt too.”

Rook wants to say that his logic is sort of busted. Hurt people hurt people, and all that crap. Him and his family prove that, but he’s being so utterly  _ nice  _ and she can’t wrap her head around it. 

It's a nice image, one she'd like to see more often if it means his mean streak won’t keep up for as long. This could be a turn around for the resistance.

“You think we can help one another?” Rook asks.

“I can help  _ you,  _ that’s my job. But you think you can help me...” he laughs, suddenly John again, “I’m honestly not sure, my dear.” 

“Let’s at least try.” 

He tips his head like a dog, expression open for the moment. “Okay.”

“Okay?” That was too easy

“Yes. It’ll make Joseph happy. We’ll try.” 

.0.

Wrath on her chest burns. 

Envy curling along her hip itches terribly. 

Greed isn’t healing at all, John’s giving her a lecture on that but she’s not really listening. 

“Joseph’s coming by today, to check on your progress. Jacob too.”

She runs her hand across her forearm, Greed, snorting as she looks back at him through the mirror. “Why both of them?”

“Jacob says he doesn’t believe you’ve been tamed. That, and he’s worried about me.”

She steps away from the mirror to sift through the top drawer of his dresser. She chooses a flannel she’s had for years that he washed for her and some jeans with a hole by the knee. “What’s there to worry about?”

Behind her as she dresses she hears him sigh. Pausing his own morning routine to flop down onto the bed. When she turns around he’s nearly pouting. 

“You said I’m changing for the better.”

She nods her affirmative, she had said that, and she meant it. She’s been attending his baptisms for a week now. She’s there to watch him, to place a hand on his shoulder when he’s about to snap. He comes close a few times, when she doesn’t move quick enough, but he’s learning self control. 

She’s proud of him. 

His whole demeanor seems lighter. Like a heavy weight has been lifted from his shoulders. 

“But Jacob says you’re manipulating me.” John shoots her a wry grin, “as if you’ve got me wrapped around your finger.”

Rook shakes her head, his brother doesn’t know the half of it. They saved one another. Bastard. 

“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” she snaps, moving to grab a shirt that she tosses in his direction. She has to hold back her laugh when his nose wrinkles. 

He rubs the material between his fingers. “I don’t like purple.”

“Then you shouldn’t have bought a purple shirt.” She tips her head. Trying to imagine how it’d look on him. It’s the same sort of silk his blue button up is, the only difference is the color. “It’s pretty.”

John smiles at her, hair still slightly wet from his tower dripping onto his cheek. “Well with an argument like that.”

He ends up putting his black vest over it. Same jeans and obnoxious belt buckle too, he can’t look  _ too  _ different. He’s still the Baptist. Just...kinder. More apt to think about his actions before he carries them out. 

Joseph likes the change. He embraces John the moment he’s in the door, holding the back of his neck and telling John how happy he is that his words have gotten through. 

Rook isn’t sure what they’re talking about, she’ll have to ask John later when they’re alone. 

“Deputy, John tells me your tattoos are infected?”

Right to business then. 

“It’s just the one.”

John’s standing slightly behind his brother and she watches him scowl at her. “The other two hurt, they just don’t look as bad. You said that yourself.”

Joseph raises an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation. 

“He’s just making a big deal out of nothing. Drama queen, y’know?”

She expects some sort of chastement, but Joseph's lips twist up with amusement instead. He steps forward, grasping for her hands. She’s getting better, she doesn’t flinch, but her skin tingles red hot with his touch.

“Let me see them then.”

Rook’s mouth goes dry at the implication behind his words. She’d have to take off her shirt, tug down her pants a little below her hips. He’d see  _ a lot.  _

“No.” It comes out as a meek whisper as she tucks her chin into her chest. Her fingers squeeze Joseph’s painfully tight until he draws back with a wince. 

“Deputy Rook—“

“I won’t.” She’s making progress with John, talking about it helps, so does being told it’s not her fault, but she can’t get naked in front of the three of them. 

“I can take pictures,” John offers timidly, “so you can see, Joseph.”

Joseph turns towards his brother, mouth opening and closing repeatedly before he settles on a sigh. “I thought you said she was ready to reach atonement.”

“She is.” His eyes flick to her, trying to comfort her despite the distance between them. “Just—“ he walks past Joseph to stand in front of her, “don’t ask her to do that.” 

Jacob makes a noise, something like a laugh, and she feels her cheeks heat up. Stupid. She’s so fucking broken and stupid, it shouldn’t be a big deal at all. She shouldn’t need John of all people to protect her. 

“What’s...what happened to her?”

John glances back at her, waiting for consent. 

She nods. Unspoken. 

_ Yes.  _

“Here, come in the kitchen, Rook go sit on the couch for a moment.”

She hears their soft whispers and the sounds of them moving around, all the while her stomach ties tighter into knots. Anxiety makes her feel sick as she presses her body into the couch. Not for the first time she toys with the idea of running, just leaving him so they can go back to how things were. 

But she likes the thought of healing just as much as John does. 

“My child, may I sit?”

Rook startles, head snapping up to meet Joseph’s eyes. He’s smiling at her, hands folded in front of him. 

“Go ahead.”

He does so slowly, keeping space between them. A respectable amount that makes her breathe easy. 

“My brother John and you make quite a pair. You’re bringing something out of him that I couldn’t. Perhaps I planted the seed inside his head but you watered it.”

Her lip twitches and she holds back the urge to ask him what his point is. 

“He was abused and he's never been the same since. I think he used sex later in life to cope. It was a sin transmitted onto him by another’s sin.” He pauses, scratching his beard, “does that make sense?”

“Yeah. Yes.” She swallows nervously, “like when you don’t want John to act wrathful, because then others will be wrathful towards him and the project.”

“Exactly.” His smile is wide, like hes proud that something had been getting through to her. “He’s been getting better at that. Because of you.” Joseph reaches out, almost touching her knee, but he stops short. “Take care of him for me, deputy.”

Rook glances up, behind Joseph’s shoulder to where she can just barely see into the kitchen. John passes the entrance, peaking out to see if they’re done. He pauses mid stride, raising his hand to wave.

Rook smiles with all her teeth, canines sharp and pointy. “I will.” 


	2. Joseph

Rook has always hated the way Joseph lingered too close. It was the first thing she noticed about him. 

It’s in the bliss that he touches her. He stands close and grabs the nape of her neck to pull her near. He caresses her cheek and says sweet things to draw her into his fantasy world. 

Rook hates it. She can’t scream though, too afraid. She can hardly speak as he runs callused fingers over her skin, leaving goosebumps in his wake. 

She very nearly hits him once, when he walks behind her and trails a hand across her shoulder blades. She stamps down on that feeling and dances away. Spinning around to face him, holding her breath when his trailing monologue abruptly stops. His brows knitted in concern as his hand stays slightly outstretched, hovering in the empty air where she once stood. 

“Rook?” 

She takes a step back as he takes one forward. 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

If it’s meant to be a joke it falls flat. Her eyes dart around as if she’ll find an exit in her drug induced haze. Nothing is real, she knows that, but he’s talking like he’s just a man. Only Joseph, dropping the charade. 

“You’re worrying me, come here, Rook.” He grabs her wrist, a soft hold she believes she could easily break. And so she tries, she yanks away but he comes with her as she tugs. Staggering forward and stepping on her shoe. His hand flies up to brace himself, falling flat on her sternum, too close to her breasts. 

She yelps, a whine falling from her lips a second later when he still doesn’t let her go.

“Calm down,” he murmurs, running his hand through her hair in what she assumes is meant to be a soothing gesture. He’s either an idiot or he doesn’t care what he’s doing to her. 

“Stop touching me.” She jerks back again, and this time he does let go. 

“Rook, you’ll hurt yourself please—“

Once again she comes close to clocking him, instead she turns tail and runs. And maybe for once in his life Rook can say that Joseph was right. She  _ does  _ end up hurting herself. The bliss suddenly makes a lot less sense then it had before because in an instant she’s on the ground, clutching her leg as blood pours out.  _ What happened?  _ The hallucination shakes, pieces of the real world coming back to her. It doesn’t break entirely though, pity. 

What happens after that is a blur, but she does remember waking up in a field with gauze taped around her thigh. An arrow wound, a bullet, could be anything. 

Rook has no desire at all to see Joseph again, but it’s only a matter of time before it happens again. Until the bliss pulls her back in and he appears once more. 

It’s been a while though, weeks, so long in fact that seasons have changed. Switching peacefully from fall to winter. Which is good for her, it means she’s going out less, which means less chance of running into the bliss. 

Still, sometimes duty calls and she doesn’t have much of a choice. Like today, when she needs to hightail it to the prison to deliver a message, like a courier boy from the Middle Ages. Someone needs to fix the phone lines around here, surely it can’t be  _ that _ hard. It’d make her life easier, a lot less stressful too, considering what she needs to tell Whitehorse. 

Rumors are a nasty thing, but the stir they create are very much real. She isn’t sure who would start such a thing, telling talk tales that Faith is planning on taking back the few outposts the resistance swiped. 

Even the mere thought gives her a headache. 

Rook’s trudging through the snow, skirting along the edges of the woods as she blows hot air onto her gloved hands. Her coat is buttoned all the way to her throat and her cap is pulled down low—Sharky had teased her about that, said it’s not even that cold. She begs to differ, the lake to her right is completely frozen over. 

She isn’t paying too much attention to her surroundings, more relying on hearing than sight—it’d be impossible to sneak around in the thin layer of snow that coated the ground a few days ago. 

Still, she glances up every now and again, just to be safe. It’s a good thing too, because just as she glances up there’s a flicker of movement, one she struggles to catch proper sight of. The cold makes her slow, unable to see just who is creeping, and so she throws herself to the ground behind a fallen log as a last resort. Better to be safe than sorry. 

“Rook?” 

Fuck. 

“Rook, no need to hide. Truely.” 

She swallows thickly, wincing when she hears the crackle of snow beneath his shifting feet.

Of all the people to find her, it'd have to be him. 

“Leave me the fuck alone, Joseph.”

She takes out her gun, cocks is, letting the click reverberate through the forest. Her eyes dart around uneasily, anxiety swirling low in her stomach as she plans her escape route. Because really, she didn’t want to have to fight him. She’d rather not  _ kill _ him, that’d be sealing her own fate. 

“It’s just happenstance that we’re here at the same time, my child, that’s all. Watch, I’ll go the other way, and you can continue on your journey.”

Rook didn’t believe for one second that it’s that easy. Not when Joseph is involved. She strains her ears, trying to hear him move away. There’s the rustle of leaves and the sound of snow parting under heavy weight, and Rook takes her chance. 

She dashes out from behind her impromptu cover, making a break for it over bumpy ground. Ground which suddenly turns into ice beneath her feet. She doesn’t have time to react to the change, more focused on getting away then the terrible cracks radiating from the thin patches of ice she’s hurtling across. 

Rook thinks that she hears him call out to her, maybe warning her, but she’s an animal in a frenzy. Her only thoughts geared towards putting as much distance between them as possible. She does make it pretty far, to be fair. But the victory is short lived. 

There’s a distinct, hardened crack under her as the ice finally gives way and sends her plummeting into the water below. It’s hard to kick her way back to the surface with her clothes weighing her down, already heavy with water. She makes it though, clawing upwards until her face breaks the surface and she takes in shaking lungfuls. 

_ Fuck. She’s freezing.  _

The winter air that blows around them doesn’t help. 

“Thank God, here give me your hand.”

She blinks rapidly until she finds him. Joseph’s crouched on the ice, trying to distribute his weight lest he plunge in after her. Despite the threat he still has his hand outstretched, an offering for her to grab. 

Rook has to take it, in the end, every time she puts pressure on the ice it ends up cracking more. She can’t do it alone. It takes a bit of maneuvering on her part, but with Joseph’s help she gets out eventually. 

“There’s got to be shelter somewhere nearby, come on.” He grabs her around her waist, lifting her up onto her feet. She’s shaking, trying to push away from him, but he just holds her tighter. Tells her not to be so prideful. 

She’s tempted to tell him that’s not why she doesn’t want his help. 

Rook is soaking Joseph’s clothes, making the occasional shiver rack through his body. She can’t bring herself to care. The bastard can handle it, she’d even go as far as to say he deserves it after what he’s done to this county. 

She’s still lucid by the time they stumble upon an empty cabin. Far from okay, but conscious. He toes open the door and kicks it shut behind them, dumping her onto a couch before he starts rushing around to get a fire started. 

She watches him with heavy lidded eyes as he struggles to get the logs to catch. Too tired to help. He gets it though, and he immediately strips his gloves to stretch his fingers in front of the warmth. 

“Rook? Sit with me, you should be close to the fire.” 

She curls more in on herself, tugging her knees up to her chest to preserve heat. 

“No, no, no. You can’t sleep, love.” He hops to his feet, suddenly pressing a hand to her cheek to rouse her. It does the trick and she flinches back with a snarl. “I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t sound sorry. She hates him. 

“Come by the fire, please.” He takes her hands and guides her over, helping her sit down as she all but collapses. 

Rook has no choice but to lean against him, she doesn’t have much control over her body anymore. 

“I’m cold,” she whispers after a few minutes, teeth chattering.

“It’s our clothes. They’re soaked.” He sighs, grabbing the bridge of his nose. “This is a disaster. Undress, I’ll look for blankets.”

She wants to ask why the hell he didn’t do that earlier, but it’s getting very difficult to talk, so she rolls over on her side and watches him walk away. She hears him rustling around as the fire roars away at her back. It’s a nice combination of noises, like the pitter patter of rain on a window. 

It’s calming. 

She only closes her eyes for a moment, brain shutting down as the chill of winter overtakes her. But she doesn’t stay that way for long. When her eyes snap back open Joseph is hovering over her, her head in his lap. 

“You scared me,” he admits lowly, leaning down to press their forehead together. She whines, but she doesn’t have room to move away. “You wouldn’t wake. But it’s okay. You’re awake now. You’re going to be fine. Let me help you.” His hands slide down her arms, towards the front of her jacket. She lies limp as he tugs the buttons apart. 

Her flannel comes next, leaving her in a soaked tank top and her jeans. 

His hands, fucking freezing when they brush her skin, grab the hem of her shirt and she panics. 

“Joseph—“

“Shhh.”

He pulls her shirt up and she recoils, sliding off his lap to try and scramble away. 

“Rook.” His hand curls around the curve of her shoulder, pushing her down against the floor. “Calm down. You’ll freeze to death if we don’t get these off of you.” 

She can’t argue with that logic, but she still fights him, raking a hand out that catches him on his jaw. 

“I can do it myself. I’m not giving you a show.”

He sits back on his heels, eyes too intuitive as he watches her. He has something to say, something that’s on his mind—he’s keeping it to himself for now. Instead focusing on getting his own clothes off. 

She looks away. 

She snatches one of the blankets, tossing it over herself and getting undressed under the barrier it creates. 

“You’re modest for someone so wrathful.”

Rook snorts, sliding closer to the fire as she drags her eyes over to him. That’s a mistake—he’s naked now; not entirely hastful in grabbing a blanket to cover up with. 

“Shut up,” she snaps, rolling over onto her side to snuggle into her blanket. Hoping he’ll take the hint and realize she’s done with this conversation. 

“That anger is still there though, care to tell me why?”

“No.”

She hears him sigh before he moves around to lie down beside her. Directly behind her. Close to spooning her. She trembles at the thought. 

“I’ve seen a lot of people come through this county in search of guidance. So many lost, hurt souls in need of a hand.” He pauses, probably for dramatic effect. “I was there for all of them, I was the father they needed. I know when people are in pain, Rook. I’m sorry it took me so long to see it.”

He shuffles closer, radiating heat between their blankets. “I’m not asking you to talk about it...but I’m here if you want to.”

“Let me sleep, Joseph.”

He hums, momentarily quiet. But then his body is pressed to hers and he’s singing a sweet lullaby she doesn’t recognize. The contact makes her want to yell, but there’s nothing behind the way he touches her, no want or lust. He certainly isn’t hard, and she’s the farthest thing from aroused. 

And yet she isn’t able to sleep like that, it'd be impossible with how vulnerable she feels. She turns over, so she’s facing him just as his song comes to an end. His eyes flutter from fatigue and he offers up a half hearted smile. His arm pops out from under the safety of his blanket and he reaches out. Towards her. 

She blinks at him. “What do you want?”

“I can hold you.” He says softly, “like a father. It’s what I do.” 

Her lips twist, throat feeling painfully tight as she gazes at the expanse of his chest, slightly exposed from the angle he’s lying at. She shuffles over to him, resting her cheek against his chest. Pressing into him until the chill surrounding her body disintegrates just a tad. 

He wraps his arms around her, rubbing her back in small circles. She’ll give him one thing, he’s good at what he does. All that manipulation and charisma, well, she understands why people follow him. Why they look at him when everyone else in their life tossed them aside. When all they knew was pain and Joseph comes to them offering up kisses and hugs and no expectations. 

A sob catches in her throat and he just shushes her. She lets herself drown in his words. 

_ It’s okay.  _

_ Everything is going to be okay now. _

_ I won’t let you get hurt again.  _

Just for one night she tells herself that it’d be alright to believe him. So she does. 


	3. Jacob

She hadn’t meant to show her hand too soon. Revealing her soft underbelly to Jacob turns out to be an immediate mistake but she couldn’t help it. It was only instinctual for her to jerk back and writhe when he crouched down and pulled her chair closer to him. 

“Never seen you so jumpy,” he remarks with a raise of his eyebrows. In a voice so soft it can only be heard by the two of them. 

“What’s got you so scared, huh? Am I finally breaking you?” He reaches up, dragging his knuckle across her cheek. 

She  _ hates  _ it. Her whole body tenses and her throat clenches up. She feels like she’s going to be sick. Despite the way her insides are churning she keeps her mouth shut, eyes swiveling down away from him. 

He huffs out a laugh and backs away, still talking. Saying something about culling the herd and the importance of being strong. She catches sight of a tiny wooden box held in his scarred hands, he opens it up and twists the metal key on the side—talking still, god he never shut ups—and she loses all sense of reality to his pretty song. 

.0.

The trials are a bloody, brutal thing that takes everything out of her. She makes it out alive though. She’s successful, unlike the hoards of people she clawed her way past. Some of whom are lying dead in piles and a few who weren’t quick enough for Jacob’s liking and get pulled away kicking and screaming. 

Rook doesn’t have to ask what’s going to happen to them. She’s heard what goes on around here, along with what happens to those who don’t meet Jacob’s standards. They’re all dead meat. Strange that he’d kill them when he’s said before that the weak have their purpose. Such a waste of human life. Believing that if you can’t be a soldier then you may as well be dead. A town without civilians is no town at all. 

She’s proud of that little tangent. She’ll have to tell that to Jacob if she ever gets the chance to argue with him. 

Or see him at all. Because it doesn’t seem like she’ll be able to walk out of here alive. She’s leaning against a cracked wall, watching people get collected left and right, and she’s wondering why she isn’t among them. She’s wounded, even if she was fast enough there’s no way the bullet hole in her thigh isn’t going to get infected. She isn’t going to make it to her second trial. 

Jacob doesn’t seem too sure though. He’s confident she’ll pull through. He says that passingly as he walks by her cage later in the day, clipboard in hand. He even smiles at her as he scans the length of her body. 

She shivers at the sight, rolling over to turn away from him. 

“Bullet nearly killed ya, y’know? Had you not rolled away.” He steps closer to her, to the cage, a hand braced on the metal bars as he peers down at her. The way he’s standing, hovering above, it’s aggressive. Intimidating in ways that only Jacob knows how. 

“We’ll get that fixed up.”

She snorts, shifting with a wince. “What happened to survival of the fittest?”

“You made the fastest time. You deserve a little reward.” He crouches down, a smile hanging around his lips. “Besides, people have been intervening with nature for decades now.” 

She can’t deny that, and she certainly won’t argue against seeing a doctor. “Alright,” she says with a nod, teeth gritted from pain. “Don’t suppose you’ll help me up?”

He laughs, canines flashing sharp and pointy. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Now get on your feet, I’ve got shit to do today.” 

.0.

The table she hops up on is cold even through her clothes. She shivers, flinching at the sound of Jacob’s voice. 

“Lie back. Need your leg up on the table.” 

Rook does so reluctantly, but fast enough so as not to seem that she’s disobeying. She’d rather not face Jacob’s discipline right now. Too tired from all the fighting. 

He rounds on her, hands fiddling with sharp tools that shouldn’t be placed in the hands of someone like him. She squirms away from his touch when he grabs her knee and forces her leg to prop up. 

“Don’t you have a doctor for this?” 

He doesn’t answer her, focused more on prodding at the hole in her thigh. Testing her reaction. It gets him a string of curse words before she manages to get another question out. 

“Do you have any kind of experience at all? Am I gonna die from tetanus or something?”

He chuckles at that, pressing her leg back down flat. “Cleaned lots of wounds before, Rook, even stitched some. Rather I’d do it than some hapless doctor who’d be stupid enough to underestimate you.”

She wants to tell him that it’d only be natural selection, but then his hands are on the front of her jeans and her train of thought comes slamming to a stop. 

“Jacob?”

“Hm?” 

He pops the buttons on her jeans, fingers moving to tug the zipper down. His knuckle brushes against her crotch and her body seizes up. Muscles going tense so quickly that even he notices. 

His hands pause on her waistband, eyes flicking to hers as he frowns. 

She’s not looking at him though. She’s looking for a way out. Or, more helpfully, a weapon. Something to knock him across the head with and give her time to get away.

“You doing alright?”

Rook opens her mouth to respond but nothing comes out except for a soft squeak. It’s an embarrassing noise that colors her cheeks pink. 

“I need to see the wound to close it up. Can’t do it around your jeans,” he explains slowly, carefully and tersely, maybe waiting for her to tell him why she’s acting aloof. 

She doesn’t plan on it. 

He tugs her jeans down and her hands fly to catch his. She’s up in an instant—at least as much as she can—trying to shuffle away from him. Even if that means falling off the table and onto the floor. 

“It’s fine. I’m alright, really.”

“Rook—“

“Just let me go back. I’ll do the next trial with a bum leg.”

He scoffs. “Now you’re being stupid. Putting yourself at a disadvantage on purpose. C’mon, pants  _ off,  _ Christ you can keep your underwear on, I’m not gonna look at anything.” 

With another hard pull her jeans get yanked down past her thighs. She makes a startled noise, her hand planting on his chest to shove him away. It doesn’t work, he doesn’t even move, the damn giant. 

“Stop!” She tangles his shirt in his fist and gives a slight shake. 

“What the hell is your problem?”

She flushes, going still as he steps back to lean against a counter. Arms crossing over his chest as he regards her. 

“Rook. What’s wrong?”

She shakes her head, eyes glancing down to the hole in her thigh dripping blood. She keeps herself propped up on her elbows, legs crossed as much as she can manage. 

He mutters something she can’t hear. Shaking his head. “I’m smarter than you give me credit for,” he says idly, leaning over to tap her jaw. 

She snarls at him, reeling back. “I never called you dumb.”

“No. You didn’t.” He picks up a stitching needle, threading twine through. “But you’re freaking the fuck out because I tried taking your pants off and we’re gonna pretend that I can’t fill in the blanks.” 

He finishes with a twist of his wrist, laying the needle down beside her. He turns around to rummage around through some cupboards. Pulling out gauze and alcohol. He sets those down near her as well. 

“Think you can do it on your own?”

“Yeah. I’ve done it before.”

He nods, content to watch her. She hates it, the way he silently stares. As bad as it was before she prefers when he talks, he’s too hard to read. 

She wipes away the blood first, hissing at the sting of alcohol. Her vision blurs for a second but she pushes through. Keeping pressure on the wound until the blood stops pouring out. 

Stitching it is more difficult. She hasn’t had to do it by herself in a while. There’s always someone nearby willing to lend a hand if she wants. 

She finishes, albeit a little sloppy, in a matter of minutes. Wrapping her thigh up in gauze painfully tight. Hopefully tight enough to keep the dirt out when she gets thrown back into his cages. 

“Was it one of my men? Or...someone from Eden’s Gate, one of John’s guards?” 

She bites the inside of her cheek. Lifting her hips to pull her jeans back up over the swell of her ass. She struggles and out of the corner of her eye she watches Jacob shift on his feet. 

“Does it matter?”

“Yeah, actually.” the tone of his voice shifts dramatically. Deeper now, sounding much more stern. It makes her look up at him. “That kinda shit is taken seriously in the project. John and I strung a man up across a bridge once after he raped a kid. She was…” he tips his head, scratching his beard, “17? I think? John took him in, cut one of his balls off and fed it to him while he begged for mercy.” Jacob finally looks back at her, jaw set in a hard line, “so yes, it matters.” 

Rook sighs, looking away. She swings her legs off the table, jumping down onto the ground. Her thigh screams out with pain, muscles threatening to give way. 

“The man who did it he, uh, he’s dead now.” She catches his eyes, and immediately looks away when she finds that she just can’t hold his gaze. “He wasn’t a part of Eden’s Gate. And no, I didn’t kill him, if you’re wondering. Old age took him.”

“Old age,” Jacob echoes, tapping his jaw beneath his beard. “What? Old like me?”

“Older.”

Jacob doesn’t bother hiding his wince. He swallows thickly, throat bobbing with the struggle. “Christ. How old were you?” 

She shakes her head, rubbing her eyes as she makes a start for the door. He catches her upper arm, fingers tight despite the way she noisily breathes through her nose. 

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore, Jacob.” 

“I do.”

Her nose scrunches up. “Why?” 

He seems to struggle for an answer for a while. She can practically see the gears turning in his head.

“Fine. Don’t tell me. Let it eat away at you until it blows up in your face.” He shakes his head with a snort, turning on his heel. “Follow me.” 

They leave the medbay and she stays close at his heels. Keeping him ahead of her until he pushes open a door and gestures for her to go ahead of him. 

Rook stands in the center of the room—an office with a single cot—hands twisting in front of her. 

He falls down heavily in the chair behind his desk. Watching her before jerking his head to the chair across from him. 

She drags her feet, sitting down with a huff. Jacob falls quiet, going to work on some papers she can’t quite read. 

“What am I doing here?”

He glances up at her, lip twitching. “Biding time.”

“Until my next trial?”

He nods. Then pauses in his writing to think. “Well, sort of. I got to get you back on the field before people start getting nosey. I’ll bring you back when you’re ready. Until then,” he smiles at her and she hates it, “we can talk.”

“No.”

“Or I can put you back in your cage, you can wait there.”

Rook cocks an eyebrow, standing instantly.

He calls her name, stopping her. “You’re ridiculous, you know that? Sit your ass down.”

She feels like she won that one. Small victories. 

“I can get you some food and water,” he offers.

“What’ll you get out of it?”

“You tell me what happened.”

Rook considers it, not a bad deal at all. But that’ll be something else Jacob has over her. A weakness to hang over her head. 

“Why?”

“Call it morbid curiosity. That, and I’d really rather not make another mistake.”

She frowns. “Mistake?”

“If I had known I wouldn’t have tried taking your pants off. Let's avoid that in the future, huh?” He gives her a lopsided grin, already standing to get her a glass of water. 

He places it down on the desk, half full. The food comes next. It’s hardly a meal (if she can even call it that) fit for a king. Milky broth and a myriad fruit. But that can’t be helped, she hasn’t eaten in days. 

She goes slow as she spoons soup in her mouth. Sipping at it obnoxiously loud. For the moment ignoring him as he sits back down. She takes the time he’s giving her to collect her thoughts. 

“Where do I start?” She asks, eyes focused on the food in front of her. 

“How old were you?”

She sighs, resigned and tired all at once. He’s good at that—breaking people. And he’s done his job well this time around. She’s worn down, ready to say anything because she’s so  _ tired.  _

“It started when I was eight. Maybe seven.” She shakes her head dismissively, rubbing at the space between her brows. 

“Started,” he echoes. 

“Yeah. It was...continuous. Over a few years. On and off every time I went to see him.”

Rook is nearly shaking now. And yet her voice is shockingly steady, she’s proud on that front, and by the lack of tears. It’s nice to be able to hold her head high in front of Jacob for once. 

She picks up a piece of fruit, a green apple slice, and bites it in half. It’s sour, a shock to her whole system as the juices coat her tongue. She has to take a sip of water before she can talk again. 

“It stopped when I was 14.”

Jacob leans back, hand raising to twirl his dog tags idly. He nods gently, letting her know that he’s heard her. “Who was he? A teacher? Pastor? Gotta be someone with access to kids.”

She laughs bitterly, and there it is, the tears. Clouding her vision as it gathers in her eyes and spills over her lashes. She can’t look at him, even when he leans across the desk and rests his hand beside hers. 

“My pediatrician, actually,” another dull chuckle falls from her lips as she finally looks up at him. “He delivered me, my mom took me to him for my checkups when I was just an infant. Up until I was 14. T-then I just asked to see a different doctor. A girl. Never made doctor visits easier though, I was still afraid, always scared of what they were going to do or where they were going to touch me.” 

Rook reaches out to lie her hand down on his. Pulling his fingers up so they can interlock fingers. She clutches them tightly, squeezing until his knuckles turn a deep shade of red. 

He lets her hurt him. Even as her long nails dig into his skin and create tiny indents. He doesn’t chastise her or try to break her hold. He simply lets her hold him. 

“Did he rape you?”

“No. Just touched me. It’s okay.” Another tear falls down her cheek. “I made it out alive, can’t complain too much.”

His lip twitches, eyes scrunching up as he regards her. “Rook…honey, come here.” He gives her hand a gentle pull, indicating for her to stand up. 

She does so reluctantly. Wiping at her eyes as she rounds the desk. Her hand still in his. He spreads his legs apart slightly, jerking his head down towards his lap. 

“You don’t gotta, just an offer.” 

Rook thinks about it hard. She really does. She wiggles her fingers—it doesn’t make her skin tingle or cause her blood to run ice cold. His touch isn’t bad, but it’s not good either. It just is. 

She can handle it. 

Besides, would a little comfort really be so bad? 

She falls down on his lap, sitting on one large thigh. Her arms immediately wind around his neck as she presses herself closer to him. One hand grabs a fistful of his jacket and the other ghosts along the nape of his neck. Toying with the shaved away hair she finds there. 

He reciprocates without hesitation. Holding her in such a tight hug that she can’t breathe for a moment. He loosens it a second later, but not by much. 

It’s nice. More so than any contact she’s had in a while. 

“This okay?” 

His breath tickles the skin near her ear and her eyes close as she steadies her breathing. 

She might fall asleep like this. 

She tells him so, a warning if anything else. So he has time to toss her out on her ass and get her back to where she belongs. On the other side of these walls, with a gun in her hand aimed at his head. 

He doesn’t do anything like that. 

“Go ahead, honey. Sleep if you have to. I won’t do a thing, I promise.”

Rook, bless her soul, she believes him with every fiber of her being. 

She falls asleep in his arms no less than five minutes later. Lulled into unconsciousness by his gentle rocking and nonexistent humming. 


End file.
